


Salamander

by Sandentwins



Series: The Fantastic Polyamorous Adventures of the Condor Kids [1]
Category: Taiyou no Ko Esteban | Les Mystérieuses Cités d'or | The Mysterious Cities of Gold
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Bi-Curiosity, Bisexual Disaster Esteban, Cuddling, F/M, M/M, Multi, Pining, Teenage Fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 21:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18903019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandentwins/pseuds/Sandentwins
Summary: They're his best friends. The two people he holds dearest in the whole world. Together, they're an unbreakable team.But why is it that whenever they're with him, Esteban gets this strange feeling that he both adores and fears? Why does his body react in such unfamiliar ways? Could it be what 'growing up' really is about?





	Salamander

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Salamandre](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20350558) by [Sandentwins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandentwins/pseuds/Sandentwins)



He shouldn't. He shouldn't be feeling this, and yet he does. He shouldn't, and yet he does, and yet it's horribly confusing.

It isn't much at first. Sometimes their hands brush together as they reach for the same thing; sometimes their faces get incredibly close as they squeeze through a tight passageway. Little nothings that make him feel so strange every single time, like a salamander has squirmed its way into his stomach and was now trying to crawl out. It's a tickle he's not accustomed to, and yet he does find it to be a pleasing sensation. He doesn't understand it at first, and he thinks of asking one of the adults about it; but then again, maybe he shouldn't. Maybe it's nothing, maybe he's just sick. Maybe it'll pass soon, and he would have worried over nothing. So he stays quiet, and just keeps going.

It'll pass, he thinks. It'll pass soon.

~~~~~ 

The night is fresh, and the wind sends shivers down his spine. Under the bright light of the moon, the campfire pales in comparison, its flames dancing along with the breeze and threatening to be blown away at any moment. Everyone's long since fallen asleep; but Esteban can't bring himself to close his eyes. Wrapped in his thin blanket, he's staring at the meek fire, with half-lidded eyes that can't bring themselves to close all the way and let him sleep at last. He's got too much on his mind to rest, and it's starting to show in the mornings. Yet he can't help it: he's worried about his father, about their mission, about the future. There's so much he doesn't know, so much he feels like he _has_ to know, and it's wearing him down.

A shuffle nearby catches his attention, and he sees that Tao's got some trouble sleeping too. The cool nights don't make for a very comfortable rest, it seems. He's still half-asleep, trying to bundle up as much as he can, and Esteban watches his attempts with a peeking smile of compassion; but then, it disappears as Tao gives up trying and just brings himself closer to the other, curling up against him. And it takes Esteban by surprise, and for a moment he feels like he should say something; but Tao's pleased little smile of satisfaction betrays his sleepiness, and he fears that if he were to speak he'd wake him up and break that spontaneous display of vulnerability. So he stays quiet, and just lays there, watching his friend snuggle close for warmth. 

His face is so peaceful, when he's not thinking of anything. His hair's soft against Esteban's neck, where it grazes by sheer accident and gives him light goosebumps. He catches a whiff of its scent, which awfully resembles parrot feathers, and that's where the salamander comes back. It's pawing at his chest, as if it were trying to dig its way up, and he tenses for a moment like he doesn't know what to do. So he does nothing, afraid to wake up his friend, and closes his eyes hoping it would pass. He hears his friend's quiet breathing, he feels his presence right near, way nearer than he's ever been, and the salamander's venom makes his heart beat faster for just a moment, in a way he's not sure is good. But his eyes start to feel heavy, and sleep ends up catching to him, and as it does he doesn't think twice about it. 

Not yet. 

~~~~~ 

Holding her hand feels natural at this point. Zia is a fellow Chosen One, after all, and their white shadow twins don't ever seem to doubt it. So why should he? 

He holds her hand whenever something is going to happen, and their medallions start gleaming and whatever's in front of them starts doing its thing, and it's all part of the ritual. He holds her hand whenever he wants to show her something, and he needs to hold onto her if she doesn't want to get left behind his faster feet. He holds her hand when she's sad, when she's thinking about her home, or about the friends they've met and left behind, and she needs some comfort. She knows he'll be there for her, and that's all he ever asked for. Her hand is a solid touch, one he'd recognize between thousands, and he's grown fond of it.

But sometimes, her touch is less solid. Sometimes, it's as soft as a feather, as gentle as the caress of silk. Sometimes there's no conviction or determination in her hold, but something else that he struggles to identify. Sometimes, there's no reason at all to hold hands, and yet she does it.

Maybe it's second nature for her too. He doesn't question it, he doesn't want to pry into her mind. But even when they're leagues away from another place of significance to their quest, he finds her fingers grazing against his own, curling around his palm, and the touch alone, the sheer _casualty_ of it, makes him feel all weird again. It's a strange power she has, that gives him light shudders whenever she touches him distractedly, and the more she does it and the more he realizes he _likes_ it. He likes this feeling, he likes the touch of her hand, and suddenly his own hand feels so _empty_ and he finds out that he _wants_ to curl it around something, around her own hand maybe, and…

And he doesn't do it. He's not sure of why. Maybe he's scared, maybe he doesn't dare yet, maybe he's reading things the wrong way. Maybe this is all in his mind, and he's being unreasonable. So he doesn't do anything.

But he doesn't withdraw either, when her hand touches his own. Inside of him, the salamander croons gently.

~~~~~ 

The two men are holding hands, talk to each other in sweet tones, and from the corner of his eyes he could swear he's seen them kiss. He doesn't say anything, and waits for someone to do so; but no one ever does. No one here seems to bat an eye at it, and he's not sure how to feel about it. 

He wouldn't say “uncomfortable” is the right word. It's more like “perplexed”, maybe. And he doesn't know how to voice it, for he's aware that maybe he shouldn't, and that _he's_ in the wrong here. But the thought turns in his head for all the duration of their stay in that little Chinese town, and whenever he sees these two men he catches himself staring. 

He tries to be sly, but nothing escapes Mendoza's sharp eyes. That evening, the old sailor took him aside, and explained him it was a normal thing in some parts of the world. That there was nothing wrong with it, even though Esteban's upbringing tended to say otherwise. Because that's just how things are sometimes.

Esteban knew that what he thought he knew of the world wouldn't be true in every place they'd go to. Yet the thought kept trotting in his mind, especially when he'd remember just how casual and loving these two men were towards one another. He's seen much crazier things in his life, though, and of all the foreign customs and practices he's seen, this definitely wasn't the strangest he's come across. Yet this time, it made him think some, and wonder.

There's nothing wrong with it. Because that's just how things are sometimes. That thought was nice, but it kept making him somewhat uncomfortable only thinking of it. And then it didn't anymore, as all things eventually do, and he forgot he was ever worried about that.

~~~~~ 

Was his shirt always this small? Could it be it shrunk somehow while he wasn't paying attention? That's what he thought at first, until it dawned on him that he was simply growing up.

As much as he's always envied the life of adults, it also came with a lot of doubts and second thoughts. A lot of worries about where he was headed now, and what his life would lead to. What would await for him, at the end of their quest. Would Zia and himself still be the Chosen Ones, when they've grown past childhood? Would their necks still be worthy of bearing the medallions of the Sun, when innocence and freedom of mind would disappear from their chests? These questions he could once have answered with certitude, he was now starting to hesitate on. And he didn't like it at all.

And then, more questions started to appear. Questions he wasn't sure he could ask anyone, questions he feared would get him ridiculed if he tried to speak them. He was keeping quiet, but he knew his friends also had similar doubts in mind. They were growing up along with him, and he was glad he wouldn't be alone in this other adventure of life.

It was a fleeting impression at first. But still, he caught notice of subtle changes all around him. He noticed how a friendly accolade of congratulations would last just a second longer than usual, a second during which childish entrain let way to something less upbeat, something deeper, right before the embrace would break. Something that he wasn't sure he got, but that he wanted to know more about.

He noticed the way Tao was behaving with pretty girls, a way he's grown accustomed to. But now, whenever he happened to flash a flirty smile or a shy giggle, Esteban would find himself disliking it. It'd make his gut squirm, as if the salamander inside was growling like a dog defending its masters' house. It was a bitter feeling, one that he hated and didn't understand, but it was _there._ Was he becoming so cruel, that he hated the idea of his friend finding a sweetheart? What kind of person was he if he started thinking like this? He tried to quell that feeling, to not give it any mind, but it stayed there somewhere, without he understood anything about it.

He noticed the way Zia was smiling at him, the way she laughed, the way her steps were light and agile when she walked ahead of him. He noticed how she was growing up as well, how she wasn't the frightened little girl he's met on the _Esperanza_ anymore, how she gained in sharp bite and wisdom with time. It was admirable, and he liked this thought. When he saw that she was also getting close with other boys, that same feeling got a hold of him again, that feeling he's come to hate. And all he could do was turn his eyes away from these scenes and try to think of something else, in hopes that the salamander would stop biting at him and making him feel miserable. 

He hated it. He hated how weak he felt, how bitter it made him, and that he couldn't simply move on and let his friends do whatever they wanted. But he couldn't control what he felt. He couldn't control this...this _jealousy_ that he felt, deep in his guts, wherever that cursed reptile would bite and mess with him. 

In the small space of the Golden Condor, it was hard to keep secrets. Zia and Tao eventually noticed his bitterness, and did their best to cheer him up. Needless to say, they succeeded in making him feel better by their presence alone. And Esteban was happy and relieved to have such good friends by his side. 

He'd embrace them both, with all the might of his sun-warm arms. And from the depths of jealousy, a strange possessiveness would rise. They were _his_ friends, and his' alone, and he would make sure they'd never leave his side.

~~~~~ 

Sometimes the salamander crawls up his chest, paws at his heart until it beats faster, until his hands get sweaty and his words fumbled, until his feelings get all confused and his cheeks flush with something he doesn't understand, yet wants more of. That, he can deal with. He knows what it's like to be nervous, to not know what to say, to be confused. He's done it before.

But then, sometimes, the salamander would crawl down instead, and that's when he starts not knowing what to do. 

He gets ideas, sometimes. Strange thoughts of no certain origin, that give him pleasant tingles in places he's never felt any. Thoughts about himself, and his two friends, and things he feels horribly ashamed only _thinking_ of.

They often take place at night, when the land around is quiet and the light is low, and no one can see or hear him. He's pinned against a tree, or laid on the ground, or resting on a comfortable bed, and he's not alone. Hands start touching him, forming trails of goosebumps wherever they graze him; lips meet his face, hot breath caressing his skin. Sometimes it's Zia's silken touch and knowing eyes, that make him feel all red when they lay on his exposed body; sometimes it's Tao's expert hands, that know how to get more and more reactions out of him as his fantasy progresses. Sometimes it's the both of them, and he's left victim to their skilled teamwork that draws more of that sweet sensation from him. Sometimes they switch places, and his blossoming knowledge of the matter gives way to so many ideas and thoughts that he sometimes has to violently jerk out of his mind before anyone notices. 

He couldn't bear the thought of his friends knowing just in what ways he'd think of them. This was dirty, this was so wrong! There were no words to say just how _ashamed_ he was of himself! He tried to bury these shameful thoughts deep inside of himself, where he would never remember them; but sometimes, when he was alone, he couldn't help thinking back on them. And that's when the unexplained urge to rub his thighs together would strike, and the temptation to throw away all notions of guilt would become even stronger. It could be so easy to give in to that pleasant sensation and enjoy it…but it wouldn't be right. This was a bad idea, a bad thing, and it wasn't what proper boys were supposed to do. So whenever that need would come up again, he'd distract his mind with anything he could find, anything to not imagine his friends in such situations anymore. For he was a proper young man, with a strong and strict Spanish education, and he was better than that.

And yet, whenever embraces would linger and hands would hold and faces would get a little bit too close, the salamander would whisper in his ear that after all, he wasn't really Spanish. And the temptation to listen would never be as strong.

~~~~~ 

Esteban watched her in silence, as she was combing her hair with a tired yet sure hand, gently humming some folk song as she worked knots and twists away. He was humming with her, following the song without really knowing it, distracted with something he forgot why he was bothering with in the first place. And that's about when Zia broke him from his reverie, gesturing for him to come closer.

He wasn't sure of what she wanted at first; until she handed him the small wooden comb, with a little smile. Not skipping any occasion to be nice, he accepted it, and she sat on his lap so he could gently brush in turn.

In a world where they only had one another to rely on, small gestures like these could mean a lot. He worked very carefully, starting at the roots and combing all the way down, watching how the morning light made it shine in pretty black iridescences. And she was enjoying it too, seeing her pleased little smile. Who didn't like to get pampered every now and then? Plus, maybe they could switch places when he was done, and that would make for a great way to start the day on a good note.

As he carefully smoothed out her bangs, she sat back and leaned a little into him, letting him comb in front. And he didn't think twice about it, working diligently as usual, until she was all done and ready for the day. She woke up from that pleasant moment of rest, and chuckled lightly as she took her comb back. But she seemingly didn't feel like getting up, which means that neither could he. She was in a playful mood today, and felt like messing with him a little to try and get him out of his bad thoughts. Truly, he appreciated her efforts, even if he knew there was no way it'd work. So he gave in, wrapping his arms around her and listening to her cheery words of comfort. It was nice to know that someone cared.

This touch was awfully nice. The way his arms were resting around her body, the way her freshly-combed hair was gently caressing his face, her weight on his lap and her warmth under his hands; but especially the whole of Zia herself, her being and her presence in general, all she was and all she could be. All _they_ could be.

She cupped his hands in her own, thumbs circling over his palms, giving him a light tickle that made him smile. His face moved to lodge in the crook of her neck, right where he could nuzzle her hair some more, breathe in the soft scent of grass she carried everywhere with her, and just be closer to her at all. How peaceful this moment was, with nothing to disturb them, no prying eyes to judge them; just two children embracing, sharing a moment of peace between all these adventures. A peace he loved, one he _craved_ , for it made him feel safe. 

He closed his eyes, abandoning himself to this sweet sensation, to the touch of her hair on his face, to the caress of her hands on his own. Slowly, she held them to her lips, and he felt the oh-so-slight murmur of a kiss being laid on his fingers. She laid back some more into his embrace, just a little, and he could tell she was feeling what he was feeling too.

It would be so easy to bridge the distance. To cup her cheeks in his hands, to gently brush some hair out of her face, and to lock eyes in a heartstruck gaze right before closing the gap and letting their mouths do the rest. It would be so easy...and yet it felt impossible. She was so close to him, but it felt like she was leagues and leagues away, somewhere he couldn't reach her no matter how much he tried. He didn't know how to do, and he wasn't sure of how she'd react to his attempt, or how ridiculous he'd feel if it failed. 

So he didn't do anything. He simply stayed there, eyes closed and fingers barely moving, as Zia kept his fingers pressed against her lips for yet another moment. How ironic that he was afraid of her reaction, when it was obvious she was feeling what he felt? It was stupid, he knew it; but it was a strong thought, one that held him back for reasons unknown. 

He didn't do anything, that time. But even long after their embrace had ended, he remembered the feeling of her hair on his face, and her lips on his hands, like treasured memories that only fueled his yearning heart even further.

~~~~~ 

He doesn't want to be caught staring, for that'd be rude and impolite. And yet he can't drive his eyes away from that beautiful sight, no matter how much he tries.

Since Tao was a bit older than him, he was further ahead on the road to adulthood, and it showed in the way his body had changed. Esteban could swear his shoulders were getting broader than they used to, his frame more solid than his broad robe would lead to believe. His muscles were more defined, especially on his arms; and Esteban would be lying if he said it didn't give him some wild, crazy ideas. How could he not get any, when his friend was getting more attractive by the day?

What was supposed to be a much-needed bath time by a small lake had now become a moment of silent, fascinated contemplation, his eyes unable to drive away from his friend's exposed body. In the slightly foamy water that reflected the twilight sun, he looked like some siren emerging from the depths, showing off a youthful beauty so powerful that Esteban couldn't get to look away from him, as if caught under a spell. But it wasn't like he was making any actual efforts to look away, for he was slowly finding out just how mesmerizing of a sight this was to behold.

Naturally, this caught Tao's attention, and Esteban remembered that he had stopped in the middle of undressing, his shirt hanging very strangely over his shoulders with one arm out. He hurriedly put it aside and got into the water in turn, as if trying to hide his shamefully red face and his equally-caught hands. Ugh, why did he have to make such a fool of himself all the time? Tao's little smile didn't help things at all, nor did his rather amused attitude. Hey, where was the wrong in envying one another's good looks? He'll have _obviously_ noticed that the people of Mu, _his ancestors_ , were naturally lovely-looking people, so Esteban was all in the right to gaze and admire. Luckily, that gave the latter a way to avoid the topic, by instead chiding his friend on his eternal admiration of his bloodline, and challenging him to a race on the made-up account that the people of Atlantis, _his ancestors_ , were very good swimmers. Naturally, the blood feud won over all possible accusations of staring, and made them forget about that little incident soon enough. Nothing like some playful wading to feel better, after all.

But even after that awkward moment was avoided, Esteban still felt Tao's glances on him. And there was something in them that he didn't really like, something _knowing_ that he definitely wasn't pleased with. It was like being seen through, and he wasn't sure whether it was worse than being stared at naked or not. 

He definitely didn't want to find out.

~~~~~ 

It's like they forgot all about him, busy as they were chatting in their corner. As if being the last descendants of Mu granted them a privilege he didn't have, a place in some club he was excluded from. He couldn't blame them, after all, and he was happy that they've found some kin to rely on; but he's never felt so left out in his life. He was bitter, jealous, and reminded of these lone days back at the monastery, where he'd hear the cries and laughs of children in the street, and would have given anything to play with them instead of being on his own all the time. And he hated it.

Even though they were still friends, he could tell things have changed in ways more or less subtle. They were still a trio, but Zia and Tao would spend more time together, for he was eager to teach and she was eager to learn. And Esteban would follow behind, yet still feel lost somehow. 

He didn't want to admit how much it'd wear him out. They were still his friends, and he was wrong to think they'd abandon him. It was irrational and stupid, especially after everything they've lived together. Yet the thought was somewhere in there, and despite his best efforts to ignore it, the idea that they'd somehow league against him and leave him behind was plaguing his mind. It made no sense, and it disregarded everything they've established so far, but it was there, clawing at him with sharp pangs of envy and disgust. He did his best to not show it, to let these feelings rot in abandon where they belonged; but unfortunately, they'd sometimes catch up to him.

He knew it was stupid. And yet, it still managed to get to him. Like right now, as he's retreated from the group to get a moment alone between some trees, under the pale light of dusk. The problem with a home like the Golden Condor was that sometimes it felt a little cramped; and no matter how much he loved his found family, a bit of space was always needed every now and then. Especially if he didn't want said family to see him cry.

He didn't want to doubt his friends, to have second thoughts about their bond and their promises and everything they've been through. They were supposed to be the best friends in the whole world, three children nothing could ever separate. But that was just the thing: they were but _children_ , or at least they still would be for a time, and children are always confused at everything; and as they grow up they discover that things don't last forever, and that maybe the trifles of today would become the grave problems of tomorrow, and that people change and people stop liking each other, and sometimes they go separate ways. Tao has always been a third wheel to Esteban and Zia's duo of Chosen Ones and medallion-bearers, but now the tables have turned, and Esteban couldn't handle being the odd one out. 

It was stupid, and maybe selfish too, but what could he do about it? His own feelings were a mess, and he didn't know what to make of them anymore. His worries were blooming into anxiety, into unreasonable fears, and there was no helping it. So all he could do was release some of them with silent, hidden crying, and remind himself that things would be better. They _had to._

Yet his absence didn't stay unnoticed for long. Before he knew it, he wasn't alone anymore, and his wet eyes met the concerned gazes of his friends. He dreaded the moment he would have to tell them about his dumb, selfish feelings, and how they would react to his behavior; but they did nothing of it. Without any words needed, they both embraced him tight, whispering comforting words. It seemed they thought he was crying because of his father's abduction, and feared that he couldn't be saved from Zares's evil hold. He didn't want to say anything, for this moment was enough in itself to quell his worries.

His friends wouldn't leave him. For even if their destinies called them elsewhere, even if their ancestries have waged war on one another, the three of them were bound together. Was it fate? Was it part of the ancient prophecies? He didn't care, he didn't care about any of this. All he did was return the embrace with force, and relish in their presence with all his might to dispel his anxious thoughts. They would not leave him, he would not end up alone. They were a team, a family, they were so much more than what his doubts could lead him to believe.

It was meant to be. There was no other way.

~~~~~ 

Flights on the Condor could be long, very long. As the pilot, he had to stay awake and focused on the path ahead, even if all he had to do was to make sure no sudden change in course happened. The Condor was pretty much piloting itself at this point, still following the crystal pearl, which made Esteban's task much easier. Still, he'd rather have something to do when flying, even if it was a useless task like staying up and watching ahead. 

As for his crew, they could afford to take a bit of time to catch up on some sleep. It's been a rough night, and they've had to leave in a hurry, so Esteban didn't want to bother them. This sleepy state was the most calm they've been in a while, anyway. It was too precious of a state to be broken. 

He laid back in his seat, watching the clouds go by as the Condor kept its course through the sky. From there, they were indistinguishable from the seafoam waves of the ocean under a ship, except that this time they were above his head. There was no risk he'd ever fall into that sea, and he was very happy about it. He let his eyes close for a moment, enjoying that sweet contemplation, letting the faint whirr of the engine lull him some more.

Something shuffled next to him, and he opened an eye. In a half-asleep state, Zia had gotten closer, laying her head on his shoulder. Her hair was brushing against his cheek, rising very slowly with the motions of her breathing. Her face was calm, at peace; and the softness of her expression made him smile. 

Her head wasn't the lightest thing to carry on his shoulder; but on that moment, he didn't want to move. He felt like it would wake her up, and she'd feel unwelcome on her new pillow, which he certainly didn't want to imply. That sleepy touch was precious, so precious he felt it would cease at the tiniest of twitches, like a glass statue a mere poke could shatter. He closed his eyes once more, enjoying her presence, enjoying the trust she put in him and his hold. Inside of him, the salamander crooned gently, like a cat being pet, and it sent sweet tingles in his stomach. If he could, he'd make so that this flight never ended. 

Something moved on the opposite side, and before he knew it Tao's head was on his other shoulder. This time, no sleepiness involved: it was a conscious move. And Esteban didn't know what to say, for he didn't want to wake up Zia. Tao knew it, and grinned at him before closing his eyes, and resting on his comfortable pillow. 

Surprisingly, Esteban didn't mind at all. On the contrary, it made his stomach flutter some more, in the delightful balance of his friends' presences. It reassured him, and showed him how much trust they put into him. So why would he change anything to this perfect picture? 

He stayed silent, then. Closed his eyes in turn, and enjoyed the peace of this rare, fleeting moment of quiet rest, for it was exactly what he needed.

~~~~~ 

Sometimes, he liked to think about what his life would be like, once the quest for the Cities of Gold was over and done for. He liked to think of potential plans for the future, of what he'd do once he wasn't the Chosen One anymore. Of what would become of him once he wasn't relevant anymore.

Back before everything started, he's always believed he'd stay in the monastery, to become a friar or a scribe. During his first journey to the New World, he's grown accustomed to the manning of a ship, and with a role model like Mendoza he easily got the idea of becoming a sailor. Soon after he's discovered his distant origins, he thought about exploring the world and finding more about the heritage of Atlantis, that was bound to be somewhere along that of Mu. Other dreams have crossed his mind at times, various and sudden ideas that never lasted more than a week. And he knew Zia and Tao had similar reflexions of their own, for it's only natural to wonder where life will lead one at such a young age.

These days, he was keen to believe he'd somehow always stay a Condor pilot, even long after their mission ended and the seven Cities were unearthed. He just felt like this would happen, that the three of them would still have a lot to do if they wanted to restore the heritage of Mu, or that there would still be treasures to uncover and adventure to be found. But then, there was always a chance it wouldn't be the case, and that they'd have to return to a normal life without any mysteries or quests.

This wasn't a very appealing idea. Esteban had no clue as to what kind of life he'd lead, if his current one were to end. Would he return to Spain, and keep serving as Barcelona's choice weather control? Would he live in the country of the Incas, get in touch with his deceased mother's culture? Would he always move from place to place, like his father, never belonging anywhere? 

Would he settle down, try to make an honest living? Would he get married, have children, become his family's provider? If he were to be honest, he had no idea about what kind of family he could ever build. His plans all implied he'd somehow end up alone, or maybe stay with his friends, but in both cases he wasn't planning to ever meet someone he wanted to marry. The thought even felt kind of gross, like most things about adulthood are.

Though...once again, if he were honest...he _did_ have an idea already, didn't he? Whatever force has brought the three of them to the Cities of Gold seemed to insist quite a lot on it, what's with all the double medallion symbolism and white shadow twins holding hands wherever they went. And neither Zia nor himself have given it any more thought than an avoiding gaze; but he knew that someday, he'd have to make up his mind about it. Of course, the obvious thing to do would be to ask her, but...oh, great Sages, what would he look like, asking her if she'd want to marry him someday? He definitely didn't want to face such awkwardness. He'd already imagine Tao's mockery, and it wasn't a pleasant thought at all.

Now that he thought about it, though, what about Tao? Would he still be friends with the two of them if they were to marry? Or would that only add to his jealousy, and make him feel just as horribly as Esteban did? He definitely didn't want to make him feel that bad. He'd never wish these doubts, these abandonment fears on anyone, especially not his best friend. But what could he do about it? It's not like he could marry the two of them…

...could he?

No, that was a stupid idea. He shouldn't start thinking of such unrealistic things. It was...it was impossible, that's all. That ought to be some form of adultery, wouldn't it? He couldn't get married to two people. He'd never manage loving two spouses equally.

Although...they do say marriage is like a deep friendship. And he could manage having two best friends very well. So...perhaps, if the three of them were okay with it, maybe they could-

Ah, come on, now! Of course they wouldn't be okay with it! This was such a preposterous idea, never done before, and it would only be met with rejection and shame! How else could his sentimental ideals go, after all? He did his best to forget it, to not think of it anymore.

And yet, the thought remained. A little fancy idea to entertain when no one was looking. A plan that he could keep while the time to choose his path hasn't come yet. And if no one knew about that hidden wish, no one could shame him if it didn't come true.

He still had no idea of what he'd do in the future. But at least he was certain of one thing: he didn't want to do it alone.

~~~~~ 

The salamander disappears at times, but never for long. Whenever the occasion comes up, it's there, crawling inside of him and giving him all sorts of ideas and fantasies. It knows what he likes, it knows what he _wants_ , and it uses it against him, as if to make him go completely crazy. Even at night, Esteban can't catch a break, for these secret thoughts come back and peel away at his intimate desires, revealing them from under all the carefully-crafted layers of secrecy he desperately tries to hide them with. 

His dreams are vague and confused, but they open the door to a world he's never dared to enter before. Drawing from his repressed wishes, fueling his most secret fantasies, tempting him with basic sensations he's not sure he entirely appreciates. He doesn't know what to make of it, but no one seems to notice, busy as they are with everything going on, and he can't blame them. But it takes a lot to fight the temptation, to ignore the whispering voice of that cursed animal within him, to try to keep a cool head when his thoughts get wild. 

It takes a lot, much more than what he's able to do. For he's only human, and humans can't not give into their desires for long. The salamander is stronger, and sometimes there's no fighting it.

He takes what he can take, appreciates every little thing that comes his way. A friendly accolade filled with warmth and human contact, a tight passageway that needs them to squeeze together _just enough_ to move forward, a sleepy night where he can get to contemplate his friends' peaceful faces and inch just a _little bit_ closer to them, to try to fulfill a desire for intimacy he can't get himself to admit. And every time, the salamander croons, it fills his chest with that pleasant feeling, and he feels peaceful and happy. Until it starts wanting more again, and he tries to hold it back and fight it, and it starts all over again. 

He's afraid. He doesn't know where that beast will lead him. It contents itself with little things, with relatively innocent touches, but these will not satisfy it forever. They won't satisfy _him_ forever, and he's deeply afraid of where he'll go. The path of temptation never leads to good things, and he doesn't want his life to go down this way. 

He needs to do something about it. Fast, before it starts eating at him. But he doesn't know where to start, and it only confuses him more. And he's lost, he's terribly lost and he doesn't know what to do.

But that's forgetting he's not alone. That's forgetting he's got close friends by his side, who know him maybe more than he knows himself, and who notice the strange unease he displays that isn't like him at all. And it makes him feel bad that he has to tell them what he feels, and potentially ruin a great friendship. 

But they're his friends, and he wants to be honest. So he decides on telling them.

That evening, the salamander chews away at his heart as he tries to speak. It's beating very fast, and he hates it, it makes him feel like he's going to die somehow. But little by little, he tries, and he tries again, and the two of them slowly start to understand, and the beast calms down a little. But Esteban's heart lightens even more when he discovers that his two best friends, the people he thought he knew best in the whole world, also had salamanders of their own. 

How ironic that all this time, they've shared his worries and he hadn't noticed. Perhaps they've all done too great of a job at hiding their feelings.

That evening, under the quiet light of the moon, the three of them simply talk. Of life, of the future, of these strange feelings that start to blossom in their hearts as they grow closer to adulthood. One day will come when they will no longer be children, and everything they do will have consequences; but until that day, they're not that much in a hurry. Even though they're growing up, they don't have to abandon their innocence just yet. After all, children are curious creatures, and always seek the unknown.

Under the cover of darkness, the three of them decide to explore this unknown a little more. To experiment ever so shyly, to take a playful baby step into the scary but familiar world of love. That evening, Esteban receives his very first kiss, and his very second shortly after. 

That evening, for the very first time, the salamander is not a poisonous beast biting his heart with its venom; but a beautiful creature warming his soul with its fire.


End file.
